Maybe Sherlock Is Amazed
by roxake19
Summary: John should have seen this coming when Sherlock asked him who Paul McCartney was. S/J


**Title**: Maybe Sherlock is Amazed (Or How John Watson came to hate but secretly love everything Paul McCartney related)  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Sherlock BBC  
><strong>Pairing<strong>: Sherlock/John  
><strong>Word<strong> **Count**: 2.500  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Use of a Paul McCartney song?  
><strong>Summary<strong>: John should have seen this coming when Sherlock asked him who Paul McCartney was. S/J  
><strong>AN**: This is my first Sherlock fanfic and it's propably full of OOC. Also English is not my native tongue so feel free to shoot me with virtual ... stuff anytime. Also no beta so all mistakes are mine.

It all started on a Friday afternoon… For John that is because as the doctor lies here,at the arms of a very naked and asleep consulting detective, he thinks that for Sherlock Holmes this whole ordeal must have started a long time before that. But because his flatmate's limbs have been probing him for the past hour and not in the pleasant way they were before that, John Watson decides he doesn't care about the genius' point of view. So with no further ado this is the story of how John Watson came to hate Paul McCartney but secretely love him and thank him for the rest of his life.

Where were we? Oh _yes_! It all started on a Friday afternoon when John Watson, an ex-army doctor invalid home after being shot at Afganistan, returned to his flat at 221 B Baker Street after an exhausting day at the clinic. Well, actually it all started a few minutes after his return,four to be exact,when after finding a toe-nail in his favorite mug, John stormed into his flatmate's –Sociopath who according to another sociopath had a heart,genius,only consulting detective in the world and a complete and utter git!-room.

"Sherlock what did we say about leaving body parts in things I _use_?" John asked in a much calmer voice than he thought himself capable of.

"_We _didn't say anything. _You _said … stuff, _I _listened but I never _agreed _on anything. Why do you have to be distracted by things as unimportant as your personal hygiene? You don't get it, do you?Ofcourse, why would you? You never _observe_! You are so infuriating sometimes Watson!" Sherlock exclaimed without once stoping his furious pace around his unmade bed.

John on the other hand, who was used to being called by his surname when Sherlock was throwing a tantrum, was currently speechless. He had never seen the younger man this disoriented,this angry and well, looking like a lost puppy to be honest. His hair were disheveled,dark curles covering his eyes every now and then, while his shirt had more buttons open than John's libido could handle. His eyes were scanning the floor as if a killer mouse would appear and cut his shoe laces with a sword and his hands were doing the whole Dance-of-a-genius'-lanky-limbs again. And his face,_oh his face_, John had made the mistake of looking at it for a mili second back when he was angry and now,_now _he couldn't think of anything else other than tracing that frown line with his lips before moving on to the younger man's lips while he tried to take said man's purple shirt off and then … _Erm _yeah you get the picture.

"Sherlock are you alright?" Considerate friend, that always worked.

"No John I'm not _alright _and that's your fault! It's all because of _you _and your sguhjumeb." He continued murmuring to himself something that sounded suspiciously like _stupid jumpers_.

"My fault? What is _my _fault? Certainly not the body parts that have taken residency in our flat?" He said in the most mocking tone he could manage while he tried to distract himself from a certain fantasy.

"Oh don't p-" The taller man stopped abruptly and picked up his blinking phone from the bed and started completely ignoring John who immediately assumed it was Lestrade or another client. Whoever it was, they were apparently more important than John favorite mug. _Bollocks_.

The doctor was about to leave when Sherlock asked him a question that made any doubts about his being from another planet- one that apparently thought the simplest knowledge of the solar system was unimportant- disappear.

"John do you know who Paul McCartney is?"

"Do I-?Sherlock please tell me you're kidding me!" John ejaculated while he turned to face the apparently alien.

"I never _kid _you John. Now, would you be so kind and tell me who he is?" Oh god he was serious! How-? How in the m-?

"Please tell me you at least know who the Beatles are." John managed to gasp out a sort time later.

" Ofcourse I do John." He huffed with annoyance and John could _see _exasperation creeping its way into his flatmate's voice. "I once solved a cold case in which the victim was obsessed with them. Frankly I don't see why." He added, making all hopes John had about his normality underneath it all vanish. But who would Sherlock Holmes _be _if he were normal? He certainly wouldn't be the man John lo-… _Erm _the man John… _locked _in a room with killer mouses! That's who! _Yes_…

"Yeah,how about the most famous and influential band in the world for an answer? Eh _Sherly_?" If he got to be called Watson he had every right to piss off his friend.

"Don't call me Sherly! I knew I should have never taken you with me to that Christmas dinner! Mummy is a bad influence on everyone. But you… how foolish of me to think you would be an exception!" Okay there was definitely something wrong with Sherlock, he _never _mentioned the Christmas dinner, not after what Mycroft insinuated about them in front of Mummy who then emailed her youngest son the names of the best adoption agencies.

" Sherlock what's going on?"

" None of your business! Now answer the question. Do you or do you not know who that Paul person is? And if you do would mind telling me as well?" He asked with mock seriousness as he moved past John, towards the kitchen.

"Um yeah, he's a Beatles' member. Propably the most famous musician available. Sherlock what is this about?" John asked as he followed the genius to the living room careful as always, making sure that his ogling of the younger man's backside wasn't too obvious.

"You wouldn't happen to have any of his records would you?" Sherlock asked as he let himself fall on the couch , laptop in hand. John's laptop. Ooh _great _bet you next time he opens his laptop a picture of a gruesome murder will pop up.

"Lost all my records last time I moved but I'm pretty sure you can find some in this little thing called the _internet_. Now I'm going to ask this one more time. .This._About_?" John asked as he flopped down on his favorite chair.

Then Sherlock started ignoring him again, this time engrossed in a book that seemed to appear out of nowhere, John's laptop disregarded on the floor. All John could was sigh and miss the strange look Sherlock casted his way.

* * *

><p>Two weeks and a case about a woman who had seemingly disappeared from a windowless locked room later, John found himself waking up to something that sounded suspiciously like 'Maybe I'm Amazed' played on the violin. After taking a look at his bedside table's clock – 04:19. <em>Oh for fuck's sake<em>! – John did the mature thing and put his head underneath his pillow and groaned loudly enough for his flatmate to hear. But because John fell asleep shortly after that –and forgot all about it in the morning- he missed it when at 05:18 his door cracked open and a slim figure hovered above his bed for a good ten minutes.

* * *

><p>And about a month after that memorable Friday afternoon weird things started happening. To be more specific every now and then in the most inappropriate of times Sherlock would say something along the lines of 'Maybe you're the only man who could ever help me.' to John and once on a particular tiring day of running around London he actually said, with a defeated look on his beautif- erm on his normal face, 'Maybe I'm a man, maybe I'm a lonely man.' And worst thing of all he always got slightly angry and stormed out of whichever room they were in when John's only reaction to his ridiculous and pointless declarations was a laugh.<p>

* * *

><p>And then <em>it <em>happened. John woke up on a Sunday morning to find Sherlock pacing in the living room,in his dressing gown, with his hands ready to pull off his scalp along with his hair, while mouthing things John hadn't been awake long enough to understand. When the taller man noticed the other he stopped abruptly and spend a good 3 minutes studying John's face. Looking for what, the ex-army doctor couldn't even bother to guess. Instead he did the one thing his brain would've stopped him from doing if he had had his morning tea. But he hadn't so he spent said 3 minutes looking back at his friend. He made a point of cataloguing every feature, every line, the corners of a mouth he'd never get to kiss, every curl of the dark mop he'd never get to run his fingers through. Oh god he was _pathetic_. What would his fellow soldiers say if they saw him now? What would _Harry _say? Oh, she would be so _smug _about it. She'd propably march up to their father's grave and make fun of the homophobic man who raised to gay kids. The point though is that John wasn't _gay_. He could see why anyone who knew of his feelings for a certain other man would think so but he was not. He wasn't even bi actually. He didn't like _men _and the only cock he had a fondness of up until recently was his own. He wasn't gay he was just _in love _with a another man. _Oh crap_! He wasn't supposed to say it! Damn it! Even in his head it was a forbidden. It wasn't like Sherlock would ever recipricate.

"John" A barritone's voice took the doctor out of his reverie. John didn't look away despite his better judgement and simply raised his eyes to meet those of Sherlock. "There's a very important matter I need to discuss with you." Did he look _nervous_? Sherlock Homes never looks nervous- apart from when he had to tell Mummy that he and John weren't together. But they don't talk about that either so it doesn't count- and that's why John ignored the want,the _need_ for the other man's skin against his own and reminded himself of his _actual_ duty. That of the considerate friend.

"Uhm sure. Are you okay?" He had been asking that a lot lately hadn't he? But he had a reason, Sherlock has been acting weird for weeks.

"I know that this is not the best _time_ for me to say this but Mycroft … _erm_ made me realize that there might not be another time, not with Moriarty after us or better us after him…" Oh god he wasn't planning to turn into a bloody drama queen again, declaring that he'll fake his death so that he can go after Moriarty and protect John at the same time like he did a few months back, was he? Besides John Watson does not need protection. He had been in bloody Afganistan, not locked in a tower waiting for a consulting detective to free him after climbing the wall with the help of the doctor's ridiculously long hair!

"Sherlock if this is about you leaving without me again the answer still is no. I'm not leaving you. I've told you before, Moriarty is not going to win this,_we_ are going to stop him! Together." He sounded a bit patronizing there didn't he? Oh well Sherlock was a genius, he could handle it.

"No John! This is not about Moriarty! This is about _us_! _Uhm_ I mean me… _uhm_ you… Oh f-! Just shut _up_ will you?" He waited for the other man to nod and then resumed pacing sans hair pulling this time. He did stop though a couple of times as if rehearsing his next lines. "What I'm _trying_ to say John … is that I'm i-. No no _no_. What I'm trying to say is that maybe I man !" Yeap hadn't noticed that one . "A lonely man who is in the middle of something that he doesn't really understand!" John thought this _wasn't_ about Moriarty. What the -? Oh wait Sherlock was still talking. "Maybe I'm a man John and maybe you're the only man who could ever help me… Understand… Oh this is getting _ridiculous_! Don't you get what I'm trying to say man? Just _think_ for a minute! I know it must be hard not being me but just _think_ god damn you!" And we're back at hair pulling and glaring.

To be honest John was lost. Not only was the sight of Sherlock distracting but he also couldn't, for the life of him, understand something that according to the sociopath made sense. But it _didn't_! It just sounded like 'Maybe I'm amazed' by Pau-… _Oh_ _god_.

* * *

><p>Nothing really happened for the next minute because John's brain went blank and Sherlock was just breathing heavily and sweating and he couldn't understand why he did either of those things. But after a minute or so John Watson blinked once, then he blinked some more, then he did the weird miming thing that he did sometimes and even though the consulting detective would never admit such a thing, he secretely found it more beautiful than a nice mystery with a perfectly consiled motive. But there was no <em>secretely<em> now, was there? No because he listened to bloody _Mycroft_ and actually believed that declaring –_oh_ sounded so _pedestrian_- his feelings to _his_ Jo- erm flatmate, would be a good thing. To be honest he didn't know what to expect but clearly it wouldn't be something good judging by the way the ex-army doctor was looking at him. And why did he have to do it by reciting a _song_? Mycroft was obviously wrong! If that McCartney fellow was indeed one of John's favorite singers the currently shocked man would've recognized the song a lot sooner and then he'd-… Be snogging the life out of Sherlock apparently. Ooh that's _nice_. Tongues are useful after all. Good thing the detective had his mouth open before the doctor attacked him. Maybe it'd be better if he closed it. Oh now apparently John _didn't_ like that. Where were his hands? Oh a _hip_! And John's? Oh clever _clever_ man! Hands- _John's_ _hands_- around his waist moving down to _his_- He should have tried kissing a lot sooner.

* * *

><p>And as Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective lies here, with an ex-army doctor -who can do marvelous things with his tongue- in his arms and pretends he's asleep just so that he can poke John with his elbows and knees to see what happens, he thinks of two things. One: If he ever got to recite the lyrics to that song to John Watson again there'd be no '<em>maybe'<em>. And two: How long before they can do the touching bit again? He really liked that bit. And the kissing bit… And the- _Ooh_ _fingers_ in his hair…

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: **Also posted at my lj here http: / slipkid19. livejournal. com/ #cutid1


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